


Star Spangled Past

by LyssaTerald



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyssaTerald/pseuds/LyssaTerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choices aren't always easy, but Howard made one and stuck by it. Fill for Avengers kink meme</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rendition

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own, nor ever shall own, the Avengers and anything related to Marvel. This is done purely for entertainment and the enjoyment of others.
> 
> On another note, this was one of my first ventures into the Avengers fandom and is actually one of my favorites. Enjoy!

It started with "You're just like Howard" and ended with Loki.

They had been ordered into the charity event by Fury to try and raise funds to help the rebuilding of New York city. Tony had tried to grumble and throw his own money at it instead of attending, but Fury had smiled coldly and threatened to bring Pepper into the mess and force Tony into attending. Tony had, of course, gone predictably white and still, eyes narrowed and glaring even as he gave in. As he and the others left the office, Steve had paused long enough to hear Tony say, voice quiet and hard, "You can try your shit with me, Director, but you _will_ leave her out of this."

It was the first time that Steve had ever paused to consider that there might be more to Anthony Stark than the "billionaire, playboy, philanthropist" persona he wore like a second skin. It made him think of another man that had laughed with him and clapped him on the shoulder in a time when war and death and violence had ruled his life.

After they had arrived, Tony had charmed the press and done his damned best to get Bruce drunk for the sheer novelty of seeing the other scientist loosen up a little. Natasha and Clint, being the lesser known of the Avengers, had vanished into the shadows to keep an eye out for those who might try to harm their comrades. Thor...precocious Thor...had gravitated to the buffet where he had immediately impressed the other guests by almost diving into the food and simultaneously draining six mugs of beer while regaling those who would listen to him with tales of the battles he had fought so long ago.

Pictures had been taken, politicians had been swayed into favorable opinions of them, and the press were having an absolute field day interviewing Tony Stark in a less than formal manner. Steve had been more than happy to let Tony take that particular spotlight and handle more than one delicate question handed to him by a snotty, pinch nosed old man that had more money than sense.

Then, as the wine and whiskey began to take its toll on the guests and wear the careful civility from their manners, the hero-worship had started gushing forth in rivers and rivers of praise. It was exactly what Fury had wanted with those in power and those with wealth when they began to listen a little more attentively and became more generous in the checks they wrote, but he wasn't comfortable and he didn't like the way some of them were looking at him.

One woman, a brown haired lady with shapely breasts and well toned legs, either ignored or didn't understand the ways in which he was subtly trying to keep a polite distance and refuse her advances. Steve was getting just a little desperate and embarrassed with the way she kept hanging onto his arm and brushing her shoulder to his while she leaned in far too close to whisper something to him.

Then, Tony was there with another glass of scotch and an arm around his shoulder. His smile was genuine and just a touch apologetic as he said, "I do apologize, but I'm afraid I must steal the Captain from you. Feel free to order another drink and put it on my tab."

And that was how he had found himself being whisked away by Tony Stark of all people and being deposited into a chair by Thor. "Just a word of caution, Cap, don't go around these things without someone at your back. You're far too polite. Stick with Thor here and the two of you should be safe from most of the hounds," he had chuckled lowly with a nod at Thor before letting himself be swept away into the crowd again.

* * *

 

He hadn't really expected that Tony would invite them all to live in the Tower with him, not after the way they had first argued. The intervening months hadn't helped matters much, either, not with the way Tony constantly clashed with him outside of the field and jabbed at past wounds enough to make him want to punch the other man. Every encounter after a mission-when the adrenaline was enough to make everyone edgy-sharpened his own temper when Tony sharpened _his_ tongue on Steve, but it was the words, the tone, the voice that made him pause and put up with it. He did it, wanted it, craved it because when Tony set his sights on provoking a reaction out of him it almost felt like he hadn't been frozen in the ice for seventy years and that Bucky or Peggy might be just around the corner waiting to chuckle at his latest clash with the infamous Stark wit.

"Necessity" Tony had called it when he told them his plans, but there had been a kind of painful hope to the casual tone he used when pointing out the pros of them all being in one place when a crisis cropped up. That didn't mean he had to provide everyone with more than the bare necessities, make them feel comfortable. It didn't mean that he had to give Natasha her own floor because she was a light sleeper or build Clint an inside shooting range to practice his archery. It didn't mean he had to give Thor a room with access to the roof just because their resident thunder god had an affinity for heights and storms. It didn't mean he had to provide an endless supply of punching bags for Steve in the gym for the times when the press of the modern world became too much for him to bear. Tony did it anyways and thought nothing of it.

The differences he saw between father and son never stopped him from seeing the similarities.

"You're just like Howard," he mused.

It was an absent thought, a careless phrasing of words. Tony had been prodding Bruce again, talking with him about things that flew right over Steve's head. Something about the arc reactor and the chemical composition of a new element. He had been in the middle of frying himself breakfast when he glanced at Tony and saw the high spirited gleam in his eye as he explained something new to Bruce.

By the way Tony's back stiffened and his eyes narrowed, the comment wasn't appreciated or wanted. A long silence stretched between the three of them growing and expanding with only the break of sizzling eggs.

"No, I'm not," Tony said slowly. "Stane was more of a father to me than that bastard and look how well that turned out."

Steve set the pan aside, ignored the warning look that Bruce was giving him, and said, "Stane sold you to terrorists."

"And?"

"And he tried to kill you." It was a logical statement of facts. Despite the public records, Tony had glossed over the facts of how he had become Iron Man and it had felt like a moment of truth when no one accused him of lying or murder as the public had seemed too willing to do these past few years. This, though, felt like he was stabbing something in the back without knowing fully what he was grasping at. "I'm pretty sure Howard never did any of those things to you."

Tony's smile was a little brittle and his shoulders hunched a bit. "Cap, you don't need to go to extremes to make someone hate you," he said and that was the end of it. He just left and Bruce followed him, casting a worried glance over his shoulder. Steve was left scratching his head and scraping his breakfast out of the pan. Howard had certainly never reacted to things so strangely.

A giant squid, a freak snow storm via Loki, and giant rubber bouncing balls attempting to assault their city later and Tony was still locking himself in his lab for long periods of time. Well, that was how it seemed to Steve every time he tried to get a word in with their resident inventor. No one else seemed to be experiencing the same amount of difficulty finding the man except Fury, but that was common enough to be dismissed.

When Pepper finally took him aside and asked him to "stop trying to corner Tony," he sighed in frustration and shrugged. "Debriefing after a mission is hardly attempting to corner someone, especially when they have a resident AI that can lock me out of whatever room he currently inhabits," he said.

The look she gave him was a long, searching one that made him uncomfortable. "You really don't know then?"

"Know what? When someone is actively avoiding me? Yes, I do understand that, Ms. Potts. I might be from the 40s, but some things don't change through the decades," he said patiently. "What I don't understand is the why."

Another silence stretched between them for an endless count of moments before she sighed and turned her head away. "Tony's father did everything just shy of beat him. He was never good enough for words of praise or more than passing criticism," she said softly. "Howard was always too busy, too drunk, or too involved with something to do more than find fault with Tony's intelligence. Comparing the two of them is tantamount to calling Tony the devil in his book."

Steve blinked and blinked again. That hand on his shoulder, advice about Peggy, laughter and sharp words, burnt hair, the manic gleam in an eye over a new break-through, the offered hand after a spar, and the silent presence of the man while he tried to get drunk after Bucky didn't add up to a father that didn't care. "No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I knew him...I knew him and men like him don't turn around and simply ignore their children or offer only criticism."

The look on her face had softened to one of sympathy and Steve found himself stepping away from her. Memories were all he had left of his life before. Memories and gravestones. When those were tainted and broken, what did he have left?

"Not everyone is meant to be a parent, Captain," she said, voice too gentle. "Howard was brilliant, but brilliance doesn't make up for what isn't there in the first place. He didn't give a damn about Tony and that's all that matters to him, so please don't compare them again whatever your opinion of the father."

Steve wasn't big on reading, but he wasn't comfortable asking one of the Shield agents or the other Avengers about what he wanted to know. Natasha, Clint, or even Bruce might have been able to answer his questions, but he didn't want them to guess the reason behind the quires. So, that only left one thing: the internet.

JARVIS actually had to talk him through bringing up the internet on his phone and navigating the touch screen before he could start, but, when he did, he looked through psychology website after website until his phone shut off on him. While waiting for it to recharge, he tried to digest everything he had read. Everything about Tony seemed to say that he had been an attention seeking teenager and a thrill seeker as an adult because he hadn't received enough positive attention as a child. They said it was a way of acting out to get the attention that one needed to be stable and they didn't even know Tony.

He wanted to dismiss it, he really did, but it was difficult to ignore how well those things seemed to click into place except for his own memories, except for the experiences he had _had_  with Howard. Digesting it, feeling his mind slip from the facts, he left his phone and disappeared into the gym. Too much, too fast, too soon left him scrambling to hold onto what was left of his past and beating the sand out of one of those punching bags sounded like an excellent distraction, even if just for a bit.


	2. Memories

One punch, two punch, three punch, four punch, shift in stance, repeat. Coiling of muscles, reflecting of memories, releasing of frustration. They shared face and blood, features and habits. They drank, they laughed, they spoke the same, but one was different from the other. Tony was friend, comrade, confidant. Howard had been almost-father, almost-mentor. Friend wasn't what he would have called the older Stark, but it was damned close. Tony was open, Howard had not been. Howard had treated him as more than a test rat, Tony treated him as a friend. They both had clapped him on the shoulder. Tony hadn't shared in his life's horrors beyond the near-invasion of Loki, but Howard had. Was one better than the other? Did the collective experiences and relative life and death between them make him value one more than the other?

He shattered the second punching bag and stood in the middle of the gym, eyes of unfocused as the sand pooled at his feet and coated his skin. The answer was no. Regardless of what one or the other had done, neither was more important than the other. One had been "Merchant of Death" and the other had been a "War Mongerer." Both had brought death and destruction, but also created something of equal value and measure. Tony was Howard's redemption, in a way, just as Iron Man was Tony's. Tony would surpass his father in all things, he was sure even if he didn't understand the how, and he was alive.

Memories and gravestones were all he had left of his previous life, but his comrades were all he had in the present and the future. He hooked up another punching bag and repeated the sequence.

He had just finished destroying the third punching bag when he noticed Tony leaning against the door frame with arms crossed over the arc reactor. Pausing in hooking up the fourth, he studied the younger man. Deep lines were already starting to cut a path across his handsome face and a thin, white scar traced its way down the column of his throat, a recent addition to the others spider-webbing across his body.

"Pepper said I should stop avoiding you," he said, none of the usual humor lightning his eyes.

Steve finished hooking the bag up and swept the sand from the previous one away. "Oh? What'd she do? Threaten you with no sex for a week?"

There was a spark in his eyes and the twitching of his lips into a half smile. "A month, actually. Something about me playing the victim," he answered with a shrug.

"Tony, I-" Steve began.

"No, don't," Tony sighed. "I don't want to argue over this. You obviously think he was a great man while I don't. I've fought too many opinions on this topic and I don't want to start bringing the past into the team when it should stay the past and I don't want to explain everything that happened, anyways. So, let it stay where we left it."

Steve rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, considering the inventor. Three hours and three punching bags had brought him to a singular conclusion. "I was just going to apologize. My opinion hasn't changed, but I knew Howard back during the war and seventy years is a long time to  _not_  change in some way," he said, turning a little pink.

"Right, Capsicle, because you're obviously one for the ages on not changing...or even aging after your little beauty nap," Tony chuckled. He relaxed a little and straightened his posture to walk into the gym. They spent most of an hour and the fourth punching bag with Tony making the odd comment on Steve's form and reciting different math equations for corrections to said form while Steve remarked on his own experiences in combat training.

It was an odd hour they spent together, but it was a good one that healed most of the damage that had been done. All the while, JARVIS recorded everything and added it to a growing database of moments.

Irony would make him reflect bitterly on the way in which this particular event unfolded. He and Tony had mostly forgotten the incident by the time the next mission had come along. They had even begun to fall into their old routine of light bickering before a mission, but when Loki attacked New York with another odd snow storm it had been a little too much to hope for that nothing would go wrong this time.

Hulk was attempting to smash Thor's little brother again and Loki was attempting to electrocute their Giant Green. Thor was yelling at his brother and Tony was standing frozen in the middle of the field. Clint was shooting off the ice monsters that bled through the snow storm and Natasha was finishing off the ones his arrows didn't quite kill while he worked from the other side to keep them off Tony while the inventor worked to get his suit unfroven.

They were winning, if only just, against this newest threat when Thor fired lightning with his hammer, Loki was grabbed by Hulk, a spell went awry and joined with the lightning. It reflected itself off Tony's armor and struck him in the chest. Between one breath and the next, one blink and another, he saw the battlefield and then...nothing.

Bright white and nothing crowded into his senses and threatened suffocation. Then, he was face down on a hard wood floor with a clatter and silence pressing in on him. His hand went slack on his shield and he fell into the grip of darkness as the sound of something shattering filled his ears.

A million thoughts filtered into his mind as he woke next. There was so much to do. Starting with the paperwork covering the recent mission and ending with another set of punching bags. Between those two things there was a meeting with Fury to assess the damage that had been done to the city this time with Loki and the snow...Loki...and his...spell...and Thor and his...lightning. Lifting himsel up onto his elbows was more effort than he had thought it would take.

Lying in one place and then another between one second and the next. Sickening moment of nothing, of glaring white and then welcoming darkness. He sat up with a gasp, eyes flying open, and sheets sliding from his body. He looked around, both confused and not so confused. Anything that was electronic in the room was stamped with an ornate S in a way that spoke of only Tony.

Everything was the same and not, the same as when he had first woken from the ice. The room was bare of pictures, but there was a TV that almost looked like it could have been from his life before. There was a night stand and two doors that he was sure led to the bathroom and a long hallway. Hell, there was even an old radio sitting on a dresser across the room, but it was off.

Maybe Tony was playing a joke on him? But, no, that didn't seem like him. Tony was sharp words and humor and misdirection. Brilliance wasn't what conveyed itself in his surroundings.

Calm, he told himself and immediately turned his attention inward. He slowed his frantic heart and relaxed his muscles one moment at a time. If they had wanted to hurt him, they would have done so already. When he was breathing normally again, he turned his attention to the matter at hand.

Loki had been their enemy that day. That usually meant that magic was in some way involved. The Hulk had seized the sorcerer in the midst of a spell and Thor had fired lightning. Usually, when things weren't going well Loki would teleport away to enact the next phase of his convoluted plans. What that meant was that Loki had probably been working on was a teleportation spell that went wrong when he had been grabbed. Combine that with Thor's thunder and Stark's suit reflecting the blast and that was how he had wound up in this situation.

As he was in the final stages of processing what had happened, the door handle rattled and the door opened to reveal a familiar face that left his mouth dry and made speech impossible.

Memories were moments that the mind captured with sight and sound and scent and touch and taste and stored away for later remembrance. They weren't supposed to so vivid.

Howard was older by at least ten years and there were lines in his face that hadn't been there before. So, this wasn't a memory. At least, not entirely. With Loki and his spells it was sometimes hard to tell if they were perceiving things correctly, like with his clones and that one time...but that wasn't the point and he was rambling and Howard was staring at him. Now, his heart was hammering and his breathing was speeding up again and he wasn't sure what he had been thinking about and his thoughts were beginning to spiral around the last moment before the ice with Peggy and the terror and the white and the...

"Rogers," Howard said and his voice was hoarse, raw like he'd been screaming or crying. "Stop freaking out."

Steve blinked. If it was an illusion, it was a damn good one, but he was almost sure that it wasn't, not with the white one moment and pressure and...Stop, he told himself, holding onto Howard's words. Howard, who was present and still staring at him like he'd never seen anything so wonderful or horrifying.

"What…year is it?"

A bitter smile touched Howard's lips as he lifted the glass he was holding to his lips and swallowed the amber liquid down. Light caught on a plain gold band on Howard's ring finger and Steve stared at it. The scientist hadn't been married when last he had seen him. That was...not unexpected with what he knew.

"May 15th, 1967."


	3. The Past within the Past

“It's been near twenty-two years since we lost you over the North Atlantic and ten since I gave up. How'd you drop in on me like that?" Howard asked, voice hoarse and low. 

He was processing too much, too fast again. 1967 meant a year before Tony's birth and another forty-four before he was found and thawed. The idea made him a little green that there was another version of himself out there somewhere in that ocean just waiting to be found and he _was...Stop,_ he told himself again.

"It's...a long story?" Steve croaked at last and something unwound in him. He looked at Howard, really looked. The man was older, he could see that in the lines of his face, the graying of his hair, and the fatigue in eyes that had once been warm brown, but there was something missing, something vital. Howard's eyes seemed almost to devour him, lit with something too much like... _hope_...that was too painful to touch.

Briefly, he thought of Tony and saw again the glimmer of humor, of a nature not quite ripped apart by war and he realized what was gone, what had faded. Howard was no longer really living. There was no gleam of life that had drawn people to him. The man he had known really was dead and it wasn't so hard to believe anymore what he had been told of Tony's childhood. A man, no matter how brilliant, teetering on the edge of giving up wasn't meant to be a father, not the kind Tony would have needed. Then, Howard was turning away, lifting his free hand over his shoulder and motioning towards the outside of the room.

"Come on, Captain, I've all the time in the world now," the older Stark was saying. "You may as well have a drink while you tell me what happened."

Drawn as he had first been to Howard, it was almost like being pulled forward the way he moved off the bed and followed. The past, the past, the past was now his present, and memories weren't just all he had left of his life from before. Twenty-two years wasn't so far from the end of the war, wasn't so far from the moment he had lost it all. He could have it all again, have Peggy...

Howard was looking over a bottle of the same sort of amber liquid that he had consumed previously. His hair was gray and he hadn't been much older than Peggy. He was married now and due to have a son in a year or so. Twenty-two years was long enough to live an entire life and he had lost his chance when he had crashed that plane over the Atlantic. Howard met his gaze and smiled again, a little less bitter and a little wistful.

"You don't look a day older than when I last saw you," he commented. "That was a good year, you know. A good month, actually. If we hadn't lost you in early April, you'd have had an actual chance at Hitler before he killed himself in-"

"-late April," Steve finished and Howard blinked.

It wasn't the bleary look of a drunk trying to fix something in his mind, but rather the look of a man slowly comprehending something. Shaking his head, he said, "Don't tell me too much of what happened to you if you're not here to stay."

Steve looked at the floor, away from the sharp gaze that was so familiar and yet not. There were clothes and machine parts strewn about the living room like he was living alone. There were magazines spread across a coffee table and another room just down the hall he suspected was the kitchen and also a mess. He didn't think about the similarities this house seemed to bear to one of Tony's other homes, didn't look at the way the wood flooring was grained and the familiar patterns it formed beneath his feet. Instead, he looked at the other man again and asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Start at the beginning," Howard said, then glanced at him sidelong. "Never mind. Let's start with what year you were found."

This was easier, letting the other man take the reigns on the conversation. He didn't have to do more than filter through what information might be too dangerous and what might be irrelevant. Howard was the genius and he would know exactly what he needed to ask to understand the situation without jeopardizing the future, but...what if he could change just one thing?

"2011," he said. "I was frozen in the ice for sixty-six years before they were able to...ah...thaw me out."

Howard chuckled, set the bottle down, and tossed some of the items off the couch before he sat down. "So, I probably didn't live to see that," he said dryly. Steve opened his mouth and then closed it at the sharp look Howard gave him. "I don't want to know how I die. It takes the mystery out of guessing." He looked down at his glass again and Steve swallowed what he wanted to say. "The military doesn't know you're here and I'm not gonna tell them you stopped in. Contracts are great for the money, but they don't deserve to even know after they just gave up."

"Isn't that what you did?"

The question was out before he thought about it, more curiosity than malice, and just as ill-spoken as his comment to Tony. He could have punched himself for the bleak, tired expression that crossed Howard's face. "Twelve years is a long time to give while life moves on around you," Howard mused and the look vanished. "Of course, you wouldn't have known that, being a Capsicle and all."

He could tell the words were meant to bait and distract him, but he only chuckled. "Tony calls me that a lot," he said and Howard turned his face away again.

Stretching one arm over the back of the couch, Howard never looked back at him as he said, "That was supposed to be my boy's middle name. Gregory Anthony Stark. Greg or Tony for a nickname, just to give him a choice." He swirled his glass and looked thoughtful, distant even. "Maria had him at thirty weeks, a little early, but the doctors said he would probably live and be healthy. He didn't. Strangled by his own umbilical cord, in fact." Steve didn't know what to say, couldn't even begin to fathom what might be an appropriate response. Howard spared him that by continuing, "That was five weeks ago and Maria hasn't been able to look at me since. So, if I have another son or another wife, don't tell me about them. I'm still trying to salvage this marriage...for all the good its done." Silence stretched between them for a moment that threatened to break everything. Then, Howard said, "You kept the shield and the costume. Can't say I'm surprised, but that also means you were in the middle of a fight when something went wrong. I think that's probably a safe enough topic to chat on."

Steve filtered through the fights he had been through with Loki, filing away Howard's comments for later revision. When he spoke, he told the other man a little about the attempted take-over and how the insane Norse God had nearly succeeded but for Tony. From there, he digressed into a few of the other battles he had led the Avengers against Loki and explained what he knew of the science-magic that Asgardians seemed so fond of. The entire time, Howard never looked at him and he just listened even as the tension of his body showed in the straining muscles of his neck. It was almost like he was waiting for something.

He started detailing his most recent encounter with the sorcerer and how Tony had been caught by the ferocity of the snow storm and how the circuits in his suit had been frozen. Howard leaned forward and put his head in his hands, dropping the glass to do so. "Stop, I get it," he said, voice straining and broken. "This Loki started a spell, got caught off guard, and accidentally transported you into the past with the help of this Thor. What it sounds like he was doing was crafting a spell to teleport him away, probably back to his home or someone who knew to expect him, and the lightning changed an element and may have taken a biological component from...from this...this-"

"Tony. Iron Man," Steve supplied and watched as the name broke the last shred of resistance Howard had been holding to.

The scientist drew a long breath, trembling slightly, and said, "Alright, yes, Tony, Iron Man...my son...and brought you here because blood leads to blood and this is a place you conceptualize as home and the two just happened to lead to now because you're the man out of time and life just wants to fuck me again and again."

Steve wasn't sure what to do now that he had finally gotten to this point. "I...don't..." he began. Don't what? Know what to say, do, think, feel now that he had achieved his goal of prodding a raw, oozing wound and getting a reaction? "I'm...sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Captain," Howard said and his tone was flat, though his body was still shaking. "Just tell me about this son I have at a future date. You've come this far. You might as well finish it." It was a half plea, half command that was reaching for something Steve couldn't fathom. "Please."

"To start, he's like you with his brilliance and his engineering, but he's got more advanced electronics to work with..." and he told Howard everything right down to Obadiah, Afghanistan, and how much he had been told of Tony's childhood. His memory wasn't perfect and he missed a few details, but he managed to give Tony's father a very clear picture of the future that he hadn't wanted to know about. All the while, Howard never looked at him. "And that's why you're going to do better this time," Steve finished earnestly. "You're not a horrible person and you're not so far gone. He's not even born yet. None of it has to happen."

He was smiling in a soft manner when Howard glanced up at him. At some point, Steve had taken the seat next to him and leaned most of his weight onto his elbows. Howard's eyes were still dark and lacking in the light they had once held, but he no longer looked quite so bleak. "A year and some odd months before he's born, then?" he asked and Steve nodded.

There was hope, but only a little now and it did nothing to lighten the lines in the other man's face. Steve drew a breath to say more, but between one moment and the next, one eye blink and another there was blinding white and suffocating pressure.


	4. What Time Cannot Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, despite being written three years ago, still has the power to make me laugh and tear up at the same time. Hands down, it's still my favorite.

Howard watched as Captain America faded from his life again one part at a time, starting at the elbow and finishing with the smiling, hopeful face. It was like a bad hallucination and he grabbed the neck of the bottle before he had thought about it. The bottle was to his lips and the liquid pouring down his throat and spilling over his cheeks while the burn in his throat and the salty drops of water that faded into his hair went unnoticed.

A hand closed over his and pulled the alcohol away before he managed to drown himself with it-however preferrable that might be to another loss, another diasppointment. "Sir, attempting suicide by alcohol is hardly original. I would have thought better of you than that," his butler, Jarvis, chided, as his wrinkled old face split into a frown that threatened to engulf his features.

He stared, processing and then started to laugh as his vision blurred. "You'll never guess who just decided to drop in for a visit," he said. "It was-"

"Captain America," Jarvis supplied. There was a pause. "I was here for a good part of your conversation."

"Oh, good, then we shared the hallucination and it wasn't just me," Howard said, voice cracking with strained laughter and pain.

Jarvis merely sighed, maneuvering Howard to his feet and turning him towards the room that had so recently been occupied. Howard wasn't sure, but he may have fallen face first into the bed and passed out for about twelve hours. Later, when he woke up staring at the ceiling and Jarvis was sitting in the chair at the side of the bed flipping through a book. There was also a distinct lack of clutter when he glanced out the bedroom door.

He looked at Jarvis and Jarvis looked at him. "Maria sent me to collect you and bring you back to the other mansion. She seemed convinced you wouldn't be able to look after yourself after all this time alone," the old butler said.

"I'm crazy," he whispered and almost cringed when it sounded too loud in how own ears. A dull throbbing spread itself between his temples and found a home there. "Or I poisoned myself with alcohol and had a hallucination."

"I'm afraid its neither, sir. You're no less sane than the last time I saw you and as I have no doubt of my own sanity, or the security footage, I am also quite certain it was not a hallucination," Jarvis said, setting aside the book when Howard sat bolt upright. "I've already pulled the tapes and have set them aside for your viewing when we arrive at the other mansion. Until then, I've your hangover cure waiting in the car with your bags, sir."

* * *

 

When Steve woke again, he had to bite back a scream of terror. The white of nothing and suffocating pressure had been worse this time and he was covered in sweat and shaking for the effort of sitting up. He was still wearing his uniform and the wounds he had received in their confrontation with Loki still felt fresh even though he had talked with Howard for what seemed like hours and there had been that period of unconsciousness, but the bed was his own.

As his eyes focused, he realized that the room was his as well. If he had been less of a soldier, he'd have dissolved into hysterics over the events of the day (days?) and hidden in a very dark corner until the events were just a memory. As he was a model soldier, he held himself together very well as he took in the way that everything looked to him. His socks were still thrown in that corner. There was a book on the nightstand where he had left it and everything else was untouched.

Remembering to breath, he kicked the blankets away from him and stood. Blood rushed to his head as the world tilted and he had to grab at the night stand, only to miss and meet the ground face-first. For a moment, he saw stars and wheezed in his next breath. Well, at least he was sure now that it was reality he was in. That did not, however, tell him if he had been hallucinating or not.

Then the door burst open and light streamed through the darkness as five figures swarmed in. The overhead light was flicked on and he almost moaned with pain as it lanced through his eyes. That was about when Thor bodily picked him up and set him on his feet, large hands squeezing his shoulders. There was a dark look clouding the thunder god's face as they locked gazes.

"Next time your brother is in the middle of a spell, please don't throw lightning at him with _any_ of us in the vicinity," Steve said, voice slightly hoarse. His eyes flicked across Natasha's and Clint's faces, skimmed over Banner's, and found Tony's. Had it worked?

* * *

 

It hadn't. There had been no diplomatic way of saying it during the debrief about his little side-trip, but he had managed to keep that particular detail of him trying to interfere out of it until he could talk to Tony alone. Just hearing that Steve had spoken with his father had brought a frown to the younger man's lips and twisted his features into an uncomfortable expression. Tony hadn't even bothered to try and redirect the conversation with a lewd comment.

Tony's hand on his shoulder was a little hesitant, but the grip was firm. "I appreciate it, Cap, but nothing could have changed him from the sour old bastard he was," Tony said before retreating.

On the bright side, he reflected a little bitterly, they had finally managed to catch Loki. Apparently, being smashed repeatedly and violently by the Hulk wasn't something he knew how to defend against. He was being held in the Avengers Tower awaiting an appropriate escort from SHIELD that Thor could agree with, which was going to take a while. That was how he found himself tracing a path to the lower most floor where the make-shift cell was.

He paused at the force field covered doorway that looked in on a comfortable enough bedroom. "Sir, I must ask that you stay at least ten feet from the door at all times," JARVIS informed him. "Scans indicate that he is recovering his strength quickly."

Steve might have muttered something vaguely annoyed as he watched the villain lounge on the bed like it was his to begin with. Magical villains and their magical recovery time. It wasn't like he was envious of them, but he was still sore in all the wrong places from where the snow had battered at him and Loki's monsters had ripped at his armor.

"Ah, the Man out of Time," Loki murmured, pushing himself into a sitting position. "I was wondering when you would come to see me. You have questions."

That Loki knew his thoughts even partially made him wary of the situation he might be walking into, but it did nothing to curb his curiosity. "Can you reproduce the effect?"

A light glinted in Loki's green-blue eyes as he smiled and studied Steve. "What would you give for another chance to right a wrong?" he asked, voice silken and Steve tensed before taking a step back. The fallen prince laughed then. "Oh, do not fear. I am not going to ask you to compromise your stainless honor. It is merely curiosity that marks my question."

Steve swallowed the first three answers and just shrugged. "I gave it a shot and it didn't work. Maybe it was for the best and maybe it wasn't, but the present is what it is."

Something flashed across Loki's face when he looked away. "That is a very _reasonable_ outlook on such a matter."

He studied Thor's brother for a long moment. "You attempted something similar and had it backfire on you."

Loki's grin was just a touch feral when he glanced at Steve. "Very astute. Yes, I did try something of a similar nature only to return and find everything the same as it had been. Nothing can change our present, that much has been proven by the two of us."

Swallowing, he asked, "Was it intentional? That was a pretty lucky shot if it wasn't and I've never seen you miss when you set your sights on something. Not when it matters."

Loki turned his head fully back to Steve and he smiled wanly. "Yes, it was intentional, but not in the way you believe. Tell me, Captain, have you ever made a deal with the Fates?"

He reviewed his mythology and came up blank with names, but recalled that there were three of them...somewhere in that jumble of stories. "Can't say I have, no," Steve said, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I tend to steer clear of myths unless they're Thor or trying to actively kill me."

There was a dark look to Loki's eyes as he chuckled. "When they approach you, it is not a wise man that refuses. They offered me something I desired above all else and in return I fulfilled the task they wished of me."

Steve felt his mouth go dry. "And what was that?"

"Your fate, Captain, is one that has been through a series of different points in time, not all of them in a linear fashion, either," Loki said. "What you did was done before. That is why it did not work."

It took him a moment to process that, to sort through the convoluted speech, but when he did he could only turn his head away and swallow hard. "Well, that's...nice to know. What did you get in return?"

The fallen prince looked on the verge of lying when Steve glanced at him, but the dark shadow returned to Loki's face. "I was granted time, more time that I'd had before. Ragnarok will not happen in your lifetime or for a longtime yet." He chuckled again at the confusion that flashed across Steve's face. "Oh, don't be surprised. I can tell the truth when I wish to." There was a sharp note of bitter hate in his voice and that was how Steve knew it was the truth. No one gave away pain when they didn't have to, not when pain was a weakness that could be exploited horribly.

"I would have thought you would have wanted to be the bringer of Ragnarok, proud of it even," Steve said and it was another ill thought comment, but one that wasn't hurtful for once.

Loki merely looked thoughtful as he said, "I am the god of mischief and chaos, not destruction. You and yours are necessary to counter what I am, what I could be, and if I am to hold to sanity then you and yours are most welcome to more time. Even I do not welcome the end to everything and everyone I once held d-" he stopped short and turned his head away, crimson faintly flushing his cheeks.

Steve scrutinized Loki for a long moment. "Its Thor you care for, if nothing else," he said, more certain than he had reason to be.

"Yes," Loki spat and it was like acid was being poured down his throat to speak such words. "It is not so easy as I thought to toss aside a thousand years of fighting at his side. If nothing else, I bought the time for Thor." Loki still wouldn't look at him as he took a deep breath and let it out again. "And that, I believe, ends the bargain I made with them. Your curiosity has been sated and I've no more answers to give."

That was the last time he saw the Trickster, standing with his face to the window and back stiff. Steve would reflect later, with a pang, that it was the most honest Loki might have ever been with anyone. It was almost a shame, really, that everything had worked out the way it had.

* * *

 

Tony stared at the blinking light suspiciously. JARVIS hadn't informed him of any new calls and he had already sorted through the weeks worth of e-mails, voice mails, and texts. He looked at the hologram he kept for time again and blinked at it.

2040 blinked at him in gold from across the table. He hadn't had that much to drink this evening and he was fairly certain he wasn't tired enough to hallucinate. Hell, he hadn't even had enough caffeine to twitch, yet. Reaching for the blinking light on his screen, he jumped when JARVIS's cold voice said, "Sir, I'm afraid I must ask you to refrain from watching that until Captain Rogers is able to view it with you."

He blinked and then asked, "I'm a grown man. I hardly need a babysitter to go through my own mail."

"Of course, sir," JARVIS said indulgently.

Tony chuckled, but still tapped the blinking light anyways. An image popped onto the screen that made his chest squeeze and took his breath away. There was no movement, but it was obviously a video the way that the pair of them were seated and looking at each other. JARVIS left the image for a moment longer and then minimized it and Tony could suddenly breath again.

"JARVIS, care to explain why there is footage of my old man and Steve talking like old buddies on my desktop? In my _lab?_ On my _isolated_ hard drive? Without my _knowledge?"_

There was a long moment of silence as he waited for the AI to answer. If he had been less sure of his creations, he would have said that JARVIS had a few loose wires somewhere. "The video was uploaded by one Edwin Jarvis, the man for whom you named me for, sir. It was his final wish that this message be viewed after a very specific set of circumstances occurred and for two individuals to be present when it was time."

When Tony finally managed to root Steve away from SHIELD and reporting on what had happened to him in the past, it was nearly midnight. Tony looked a little older than he had the day before, but when questioned he had just shaken his head and led Steve to the lab where JARVIS finally allowed him to turn the video on.

It was odd, Steve decided, to be watching the old, grainy footage of something that had happened to him not even three days previously but had taken place more than forty years previously. Tony's silence through the entire conversation was telling in itself and he couldn't help the gnawing warmth of nervous guilt that spread through his stomach. Maybe it hadn't been his place to interfere, to ask Howard to actually do something decent for Tony...

The screen turned grainy and he could sworn he heard Tony mutter, "Here we go." Then, Howard's face was flickering into view as he stared at something just above the lens looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Oh, come on, Jarvis," Howard sighed. "A video message isn't going to make up for everything." He sighed at something off-screen and then looked at the lens. "Tony, Steve. The two of you are either in a frozen sleep or too far away to hear this right now. By the time you get this, Steve will have returned from the past and trying to convince me be a good father and I'll have apparently ignored him." Howards lip's twisted into a grimace and he looked down. "Truth is, I didn't ignore it. I did try and be a good father...in the beginning. You were absolutely brilliant, Tony, still are from what Steve said and you were everything I'd even wanted and more in a son."

Howard paused and looked up at something off screen, smiled a little, then turned his gaze back to the lens and looked at them. "Steve's warnings about the future...those weren't so easy to ignore even though they weren't my present. Afghanistan? Obadiah? The things he told me could have easily broken anyone, even me, and yet you came out fighting, Tony, and you saved so many people. Some nights I was torn between not caring and wondering if you did those things because I was a horrible father to you." His eyes flicked off screen again and he sighed before continuing, "Even when you were little, you were always wanting my approval and, the thing is, you never needed to ask. You always had it. I'm just sorry I couldn't have shown it through more than a few videos like these."

The film cut out one clip at a time, almost like a bad dream, and Tony took a half step forward when Howard's face finally disappeared. Steve just stood there, uncertain of what he should do as the pain flickered across his friend's face.

The silence was beginning to stretch and fill the crevices of the room when JARVIS said, "Sir, I believe there is one more thing you should see. When the video was uploaded into my system I took the liberty of...reviewing...your father's old security data on the chanced that there was something to confirm the nature of his words."

Steve was quietly impressed. He didn't know much about computers or computer systems, but a system, even an AI, acting in such an independent manner was unheard of. Still, that wasn't quite enough to distract him from the fact of the matter. His visit had been the deciding factor in steering Howard towards neglecting Tony. Not unintentionally. Not because Howard had been disinterested in being a parent. Rather, it had been for the "greater good" and while he was Captain America and it was his job to save lives, it still left the bitter taste of bile in his mouth.

Tony stared at the screen for a moment longer and then seemed to rouse himself from a stupor. "If it's him fucking an intern, JARVIS, I'm going to donate you to a college. A community college. In Montana," he said.

"Of course sir. You would probably buy me back before the end of the day," JARVIS replied.

Steve took a step back, almost certain he wasn't wanted for this. Tony caught the movement and looked at him, a little wary. "Tony...I'm sorry...for interfering," Steve said and his heart clenched at the flash of pain that crossed his friend's features again.

"It wasn't entirely your fault," Tony said after a pause. "He made the choice. You just brought it to that choice. Still, I'm not going to hold it against you for trying to be...well...you." His smile was a little crooked and raw, but real. "Want to stay and see what the hell JARVIS found that backs the old man's claims?"

It was a choice that was almost too easy for him to make. "I'll stay," he said and took that step towards Tony to put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll stay."

Steve almost asked JARVIS what was going on when the screen blinked over to an image of a Stark Industries laboratory where Obadiah appeared to be discussing something with a white-coated scientist. Then, Howard strolled in from the left hand corner and the other two looked at him.

"Howard, we were just discussing the plans for the Arc Reactor and using it at another location," Obadiah said, gesturing towards a tabletop where a blueprint probably resided. "Thoughts?"

"I think you and I have something else to discuss and that Henry, here, has been putting in far too many hours this month," Howard said, face blank. The scientist in question looked fairly nervous at the idea that Howard knew his name. He was, in fact, taking a step towards the exit, fumbling for some sort of excuse to leave Obadiah and Howard to themselves. Obadiah watched Howard with a questioning look, but didn't voice anything until the scientist had retreated.

"Howard, what's-" he began, but his face snapped to the side when Howard's fist connected with his jaw. Steve's own jaw dropped at the sight of it and the muffled noise that the recording had caught of flesh meeting flesh.

Howard's features had lost the carefully blank look and now he just looked angry. "You didn't think I'd see the bruise?!" Howard snarled, almost too low for the onlookers to hear.

The other man blinked at that, still apparently stunned by the punch. Then, he rubbed the spot on his cheek and eyed Howard appraisingly. "I'm guessing this has something to do with the fact that I slapped Tony three days ago," he said and amusement glittered in his eyes. "I have to say I'm impressed. I didn't think you cared enough to get angry after the fact with how-"

Howard had him around the neck and had slammed him against delicate machinery. Obadiah grasped Howard's wrists even though the grip looked far from strangling. "I'm only going to say this once, Obadiah. Never touch him again. Tony is _my_ son, not yours and it is not for you to decide what is best for him. Touch him again, in any manner, and I will forget that we have been friends for the last thirty years and break apart your entire life before I give you a gun to shoot yourself with. Got it?"

"Perfectly," Obadiah said tightly.

The elder Stark relaxed his grip on Obadiah and stepped back. Then, the screen paused on the moment and Tony leaned forward, an oddly intent look on his face.

"Jarvis," Tony said, "Cut to the part when 'what-ever-his-name-was' left the room."

"What are you-" Steve began and then Tony was flicking through the video one frame at a time. The inventor settled on the moment that Howard had punched Obadiah and smirked.

"Freeze-frame that and make it my background for the next week," Tony said.

"Of course, sir. Would you also like me to order a scotch with the same image on it?" Jarvis asked and Tony looked tempted.

Then, "Nah. That'd be a waste of good alcohol." Catching Steve's puzzled expression, he added, "If I don't like the picture, I use the bottle as target practice to test the accuracy of the repulsors." To that, Steve held his composure for exactly three seconds before he descended into howling laughter. Tony followed him mere moments after that and JARVIS just held his silence.

In the moments and minutes that followed, Tony and Steve just laughed until the laughter died away to grins. Steve clapped Tony on the shoulder and asked about the plans for clean energy Tony was developing and Tony launched into a technical discussion about the intricacies about the Arc Reactor and Steve just settled back into his chair to listen.

Through it, JARVIS fulfilled another last request of one Edwin Jarvis in recording the moment of good humor and camaraderie and filing it away under a file hidden from even his creator. The new video triggered a blinking red light on someone else's computer where the light blinked red until someone accessed it and smiled at seeing the boy who had been so miserable happy for once.


End file.
